Summer sun took me bake to my youth
The reason we became hysterical this week over a two-day blip in the weather is that we expect to pay hundreds of pounds for the sun.
We don’t want it for nothing – we want to sit at an airport for hours, lose our luggage, get mosquito bites and sunstroke then return home with no money.
We’re utterly confused if we can walk out of the house and feel that delicious blanket of heat without any money changing hands, and do actual sunbathing, unencumbered by umbrellas and four changes of clothes in a rucksack.
Much better to leave all that to Abroad and keep moaning about the weather At Home.
Meanwhile, those old enough have been reminiscing about 1976 when the heat went on for days on end – right through my A-levels, in fact.
I had a bit of a fling with Charlie up the road as his parents had a pool. It did nothing for my French oral but wonders for my backstroke…